


dorm room fever

by inacolloquialsense



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M, cursing included, groping is described, neither are strictly explicit, scantily clad college-aged murray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inacolloquialsense/pseuds/inacolloquialsense
Summary: flip sides of the same prompt:visiting each other in college





	1. gentle evening for soft faced boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elation. reunited at last

There’s nothing quite like being in a dorm room. Energy sizzles and the air is alive with all the hormones freely flowing through the halls. Everything smells of industrial strength cleaner or BO. People could pay their hard earned scholarships and loans to get backaches on the thin mattresses and want to do serious harm to every teacher they ever had for morning classes. 

On this day in history something momentous was in the works. Q was coming.

Murr tidied up his suite. Bed is made. No trash or clothes on the floor. He sprayed enough air freshener to kill a canary. His roommate is nowhere in sight, and he paid a stranger waiting outside of the store friend for a six-pack of room temperature beer. 

It’d been almost a full semester since he’d seen his best friend. Anxiety bubbled in his stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Letters and phone calls weren’t enough to tide him over, and on lonely nights he wondered why they went to separate colleges in the first place. The time apart only made it sweeter when they were together, he guessed. 

The winter months were not letting up. Snow rose almost past his knees. Where he sat on the sheltered stairs of the main building, Murr could see his breath float out like smoke. He spent more time than he would admit switching in between pretending to have a cigar and being a dragon. Half an hour past the time Brian had told him, and Murray was inside the building staring out. He stared at the hands of his watch. 

Maybe Q had thought better of visiting because of the snow. Or he didn’t want to see Murr anymore. Or even worse he had tried to go, but is now freezing to death in his stalled car on the highway.

“Hey, man!” Quinn smiled brightly at him. He pounded his fist on the glass then opened the door. “How ya doin? Are you high? You were spacing out.”

His features lifted, and a bolt of lightning ran through his chest. James crashed into Brian, almost toppling him in a hug. “You’re late, asshole.” He buried his face into Q’s coat. It brought a chill that rattled down his spine.

“Holy shit.” He stumbled back. “I got caught up in the oncoming storm. Be thankful I didn’t get buried in it.” Quinn pat his back. 

“I am.” James let go, his lungs started working again. He laughed. “I am.” He repeated. What he wanted to do is wrap himself around Brian again and not let go for a few eons. What he did was take his duffel bag and insult him. “C’mon, you idiot. I’m really sick of being in this lobby.”

“Yeah, sure.” Brian replied, taking his bag back. Walking down the hall he knocked into Murr. “I missed seeing you.” When he looked over his friend was busy being fascinated by his sleeve end.

Murray smiled into his chest before looking up. “Ditto, man.” 

Before long they were in his room, Quinn at the desk and James on his bed. Stripped out of their winter wear and warmed through with piss water beer.

“And Riker was able to talk out of his ass enough that the trooper didn’t give him the ticket.” He waved his hands in fast motions. Murr didn’t seem to be with him, content to stare at the ceiling. Q threw his empty can. “Reminded me of someone I knew.”

It landed on his stomach. He sat up and blinked hard at it. “I’m listening. He sounds really great. I’m glad you two are so friendly.” Murr grabbed the can and threw it in the trash. “Do you want the rest of mine?” He laid back down, pointing behind his head to his half sipped drink. “I can’t stand the taste.”

“Lightweight.” Q said mockingly, taking a long pull. His brain skipped to second hand kisses, and he shook his head, setting it down. “So, what do you want to talk about then?” He played with the metal can, lifting it up then letting gravity pull it to the desk.

“Do you remember the time you tried out for football and almost sprained your ankle during tryouts?” Murr flipped onto his stomach, looking at Quinn nod. “And you went to the nurse’s office. The really hot one. You said she wanted to blow you on the table.”

“Yeah. She totally did.” He agreed, bending forward in his seat. “She wanted me so bad.”

“Really?” Brian was pinned with his eyes.

“Well, mostly.” He wrung his hands. “I can’t really remember it that well.”

“Sal said you popped a semi while she was wrapping you up.” Pressing forward, propping himself up with his pillow between his arms.

“Yeah.” Quinn leaned back and scratched the back of his neck. “That might have happened. It was a while ago, man.”

“Two years.” Murr’s laughing at him. “You fucking moron.” He says in the nicest way possible, because this is his fucking moron.

“If I’m going to be interrogated can I at least lay on the bed with you? My ass is sore.” He stands up and is about to shove James to the side when he rolls over willingly.

The bed’s too small to fit two people. Before it creaked now it moans in pain under the weight. Packed in like a can of sardines. They wish they had more excuses like this for physical contact.

Murray clears his throat. “You can take Anthony’s bed if that’s what you want.” The strange anxiety is twisting his stomach, again.

Brian replies his justification. “It’s a whole room away, and I’m already comfy.” His brain is yelling get closer, but he wants to see his friend. Awkward movements shimmy him down the bed and he gets an odd stare until he’s on top of James’ chest. “I’m getting comfier by the minute.” He tells himself it’s less incriminating as long as he has on a shit eating grin. It’s all a joke.

Murr is crushed by him, little more than usual. He finds his arms are most comfortable wrapped lazily around him. Fingers entwined behind his back to ensure he’ll never get away. “You’re a fatass.” He says fondly. Q digs his chin into his skin.

Brian tangles a leg under one of Murray’s. “Yeah, so I should leave then?” The position leaves no room to allow for secrets. James’ heart jumps up in protest. A tangle of brown hair is moved as Q presses his ear to the sound. 

“No.” He didn’t mean to hold on tighter, his arms constricted on their own. It’s an odd one-sided bear hug. Now he’s able to feel the size of Quinn’s rib cage. Each expansion of his lungs as he takes another breath.

“I guess I’m trapped.” Brian yawns. “Good.”


	2. hot blooded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> q's pissed. murr's not bothered

“You’ve been ignoring me.” Quinn says. On the other end of the line his voice crackles. It’s fuzzier than it should be, takes away the impact he wants. He should be able to reach through the phone and yell at Murray clearly.

“You chose this.” Murr speaks in short bursts. The words taste bad, and he wants them out of his mouth. “You’re two states away from me.” The blue plastic of the phone might meld with his hand at how hard he’s holding it. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Reply when I send you something.” He grates out. “Answer my calls more than one out of six times.” Q speaks quietly into the speaker, crushing the side of his mouth into it. “What the fuck are you doing? Is this funny to you or something? Is this part of some long con?”

“I’m trying to be nice.” This is already draining him. Drama is not something he sought out. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. “I thought maybe you’d get the message without me shouting it at you.” He takes a breath. “Long distance doesn’t work, and it was a stupid fucking fantasy of yours that it would.”

“I’m sorry you can’t keep your cock in your pants for one week at a time, you fucking cunt.” The people in line for the phone frown at him, and he turns away. He lowers his voice. “If you thought of anyone else but yourself for one fucking second you’d see how much of a douche bag you are.”

James rolls off of his side on the bed. The sun was shining in his eyes. He hangs his head over the side and imagines a guillotine taking away all his problems. “This shit is why. I can’t handle you only over the phone. You get so worked up over something you should have seen a mile away. If you weren’t so fucking dense we wouldn’t be talking. We’d both be living our separate lives.”

“I’m getting on the next Greyhound bus and punching your fucking teeth in.” Quinn hangs up the phone. Stares at the next person. “It’s free, now.”

“Brian, don’t be stupid. That’s almost seven hours. Quinn. Hello?” James listens to the dropped line and hangs up. “Shit.”

6 hours and 37 minutes. The time it takes for a single person to exact revenge.

He goes to sleep angry and wakes up angry. It’s dark by the time the bus driver is shaking his shoulder. “You’re a deep sleeper.” She says. She sounds like a smoker and smells of it, too. 

Q squints and frowns before he recognizes where he is again. His body is stiff and full of sand, far heavier than it should be. “Sorry.” He doesn’t mean it, but it makes the lady move out of his way. “Thanks for waking me.” It’s genuine. He wouldn’t want to travel countrywide, because he wanted a nap.

One bus and four subway stops then he’s standing right where he wants to be. His anger doesn’t boil. He’s simmering now, every step closer was both encouragement to finish the task and another reason why he shouldn’t have stepped out of his dorm. Too fucking late now.

He takes the stairs two at a time. Murr told him the number. Sent him pictures of his door. Q wants nothing more than to erase the memories from his mind. The bright smile is a ruse, dangling light of an angler fish ready to ingest its prey.

“OPEN THE FUCK UP, JAMES.” The cheap door shakes under his fist. Pink colours the side of his hand. “I want you to say your bullshit to my face.”

Metal slides against metal as the lock is undone. “I know you’re angry, but I have an idea.” Murray’s face pokes out.

Brian pushes past him into the room. “You and your fucking plans. I don’t want to hear it.” He turns to face him. “You are-” He stares at James. “You-” His train of thought is running in an entirely different direction. “Uh. What.”

In the time it took for him to get here Murr had gone through several plans. He wrote an apology, a song, and a poem. All of them were utter shit, but Quinn might appreciate the thought. He moved on to begging his roommate for a night alone. If anything was going to happen, he’d rather there be no witnesses for the messy disaster. His final part of the plan was probably the worst, but he didn’t want to go out to buy anything. Plus he wasn’t exactly a seamstress. 

Overall he had a whole ‘barely clothed and working it’ vibe going on. Maybe throw in a little barely legal lot lizard.

“Remember that Playboy you showed me?” Murray waved over himself, like he was a big present. He spun in place, making sure Q got a good eyeful of all the work he did. “Ms. March was your favourite right?”

His brain was screeching to a halt. Brian couldn’t look enough. The hem of the shirt was slightly frayed and hung loosely, leaving his flat belly exposed. The hip hugging shorts left nothing to the imagination, showing off his cute ass, small waist, and half hard cock. Quinn’s eyes kept roaming up and down. Had he always looked so smooth and soft? His hands twitched and he licked his lips, suddenly he had cotton mouth.

“Wait, hold on.” Murr bent over and peeled off the shorts to reveal hot pink lace and straightened. He touched himself through the thin fabric, and Q watched a little wet patch build. His erection was held to the side by the band of the lingerie. “I’ve been waiting for you. What do you think?”

Quinn looked on with wide doe eyes. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. “Uh.”

James grabbed him by the jacket and sat him down on the bed. “I destroyed one of my favorite shirts for you.” He straddled his lap, smirking when Brian’s hands started wandering over his skin. “I can feel your hard-on through your jeans.” Very important mental functions were fading in Q’s head. “I shaved all over, because you took so long to get here.” Murr exhaled as a hand groped his ass. “I guess you like it.” He smiled.

“Yeah.” Q kissed him, pulling him so close their hearts threatened to synch in their pounding. At some point they had to breathe. “Fuck. I love this, you conniving piece of shit. Why the fuck are you so pretty?” He pressed their lips together again. Fingers weaved into his jacket and Murr pushed away.

“Are you still mad?” James smoothed his hands to lay open on his chest, rubbing softly.

“Some part of me, but can I still have sex with you?” Quinn laid out bluntly.

He shoved him down on the bed, in what was supposed to be an act of passion but accidently caused Q to hit his head on the wall. “Oh shit. Oh my god. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” His hands shoot out to cradle Brian’s skull. He kisses all over his face then over his lips in light pecks. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it’s the head trauma or maybe it’s the look of concern on Murr’s face. In any public story he’d say it was the head trauma. Brian picked James up and swung both of them to lay lengthwise on the bed. “Keep kissing me I’m dying.”


End file.
